


This Is How I Disappear

by corpseductor



Category: Sound Horizon (Band)
Genre: Gen, Nein timeline, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 04:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18631150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corpseductor/pseuds/corpseductor
Summary: "And if you could talk to me, tell me if it's so that all the good girls go to heaven."A fic in which Elisabeth is caught in the rain, seeks shelter, and finds it.





	This Is How I Disappear

It had been a quiet night, peaceful; the air was calm and clear, and there were few clouds. The moon hung bright and full, and Sister Elisabeth thought it all very pleasant weather to travel in til the rain started. Wasn't that simply her luck?  
  
She sighed deeply. It would take her too long to finish traversing the muddy forest path and find an inn the town over, even on horseback. She would simply have to wait for the bad weather to subside and hope the sisters she was visiting wouldn't be too disappointed at the delay come morning. Just as she was considering hiding away as best she could beneath a tree, she saw through the branches the shape of a church.  
  
Perhaps her luck was better than she imagined. Her horse certainly couldn't manoeuver through those trees - they stood so close together that it seemed they had grown to harbor a secret. The amusing idea kept her mind from idleness as she tied her horse to a sturdy pine. What sort of secret might trees like to hide? A treasure which kept their leaves an emerald green, maybe; a thing which lay deep in the soil and tended their roots. Corpses, those would certainly do the trick -  
  
Elisabeth shook her head. She hadn't intended the line of thought to become so dark. Corpses! It was enough to give her a shiver where even the rain couldn't. The shiver, however, was followed by a sneeze. It seemed she had overestimated her constitution. However uselessly, she committed herself to shaking a little of the rain off her clothes as she walked, and noticed the sky had remained clear even in the midst of the downpour, the moon's light still shining like a beacon. How odd.  
  
Her first impression of the old church, hidden in the deep growth of the forest, was that it was lovely. Without any doubt, it was decrepit, but it glowed a pure and beautiful white in the cool, calm light of the moon, seeming as though it were born from a dream. She didn't tarry long to take in the sight, however; the rain began to pick up, and she wished not to be soaked any longer. The doors seemed heavy, but as they'd worn with age, they were not so difficult to push open.  
  
It may have otherwise been quite dark in the place, but there was a great hole in the roof. This was both fortunate and unfortunate, for while it let in the light, it let in the rain as well, and the great majority of the sanctuary floor was just as soaked as she. Though a few beams of moonlight shone in on the confession booth, it seemed she might be dry there, and so she rushed to it accordingly. Having confessed quite a few times in her life, she automatically hid herself away in the proper spot. Noticing this, she laughed to herself. Was she that devout?  
  
It felt quite silly, but sitting in the booth, it was horribly strange to remain silent. There was clearly no priest, but the idea of his presence gave her some terrible sort of stage fright, as if her prolonged silence might disappoint the imagined holy man. She smiled a little and shook her head. Silly, silly Elisabeth.  
  
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," she said, purely to ease her mind. "It has been seven days since I last confessed."  
  
"Then it seems you are just in time, Sister Elisabeth."  
  
She gasped. "Oh, my - oh, I'm so terribly sorry, Father, I didn't realize - I thought this church abandoned!"  
  
The priest was silent for a moment, though she heard him drum his fingernails on the wooden bench. "Hm. I don't believe I'm a priest, Sister, but if it gives you any pleasure, I might pretend to be one. What are your sins?"  
  
She frowned, feeling a creeping sense of wrongness about the situation. "If you're not the priest, sir, I don't believe I can accept any blessings from you."  
  
"Have you tried believing such a thing? That might do you some good. I am pretending, after all, so I would appreciate your cooperation."  
  
It would perhaps be safer to cooperate with the strange man and say her prayers of contrition for it later, she thought, than argue the point any further. "Well, Father," and with the title there was a bit of pointed sarcasm in her voice, "I have been quite rude to Sister Lotte in the recent days, knowing I might travel and be rid of her. She finds often some derisive remark for me, and I must admit I find it trying. I've been short with her, Father."  
  
"Oh my, oh my," said the man. "Well, well. How has it made you feel?"  
  
"Guilty, of course," she replied. "It simply isn't Christian behavior. It's made my stomach ill."  
  
"Hm. Tsk, tsk." He wasn't very good at this, thought Elisabeth. Had he ever even confessed himself? "In my learned opinion, I recommend you take a few Hail Marys for the stomachache. If that fails you, call for the good doctor again in the morning."  
  
"I thought you were the priest."  
  
"Oh, no! I'm not the priest, I'm only pretending to be one!" Having declared this, he heartily laughed at her.   
  
She was about to become even more cross than before, which would have been some feat, before she was jolted some years prior by the oddly innocent character of his laughter. "März? März, is that your voice?!"  
  
He was silent. Elisabeth wasn't sure what to do with herself, until finally she could no longer bear the agonizing stillness and practically threw herself against the screen which separated them. "März! Oh, please tell me it's you!"  
  
"Elisabeth," he warned.  
  
"Is it - are you unable to say it's you? Have you been in hiding after your mother - have you been all right? I - I can help you! If you've been falsely accused, I -"  
  
"März is dead." The levity had gone from his voice, but it was unmistakably her childhood friend; she was sure of it now. "You would do well not to chase ghosts."  
  
She couldn't stand having this conversation without seeing him. There was a hole in the upper corner of the screen, and a moonbeam shining through; as she talked, she climbed the bench to get a look through. "But it's all right now, Mär," she insisted, applying some effort to keep her voice even. "I can take you back to the convent. Surely the other sisters will understand!"  
  
Pressed to the wall furthest from her and cloaked in shadow, he was nothing more than a dark shape. All she could see of him was his hand. His nails were black as night, and illuminated as his hand was, his pallor seemed unnatural, even for the wan boy in her memory. Was it simply a trick of the moonlight? It felt foolish to wonder, as though there should be no such distinction between the man and the moon's cool brilliance. He drew it away, though whether he was aware of her having seen it she did not know, and let it rest folded on his shadowed lap.  
  
"Should a saint have any business consorting with the damned?" He coughed out a joyless laugh. "Were she to welcome such wretched men into her home, and keep such detestable company, would she not better be called a fool?"  
  
Elisabeth shook her head. "Don't be so hasty, Mär. You're hardly wretched."  
  
"Perhaps März wasn't, Sister, but I've told you he's dead."  
  
"Stop talking to me in riddles!" She pressed her hands against the screen. "I'm trying to help you, März -"  
  
" _There is no März to help!_ " She heard him stand as he shouted, and drew away from the screen in shock. He was silent for a good while, and Elisabeth stood stock still. "There's nothing for you here," he managed weakly. "Leave me be, please..."  
  
She could hardly leave him like that. She rushed out of the booth, fumbling a bit with the door. The rain was still pouring as she opened the door to Mär's, only to find him missing.

**Author's Note:**

> Titled after and inspired by "This Is How I Disappear," a song by My Chemical Romance (yes, in 2019!), and the lyric in the summary in particular.


End file.
